The Wayfarer and his (W)itch
by Seobryn-El-Kaiser
Summary: While you put on your Alva Armor. Have you ever wondered what the story behind it was? Why the description was as it was? Allow me to tell you my twist of the story. Based off of both the original Dark Souls 2 and Scholar of the First Sin. Rated M for violence and possible mind blowing
1. Chapter 1

Memory 0

 **Prologue**

Long ago. In the distant past. Tale of a brave knight circulated the inns and meeting places of kingdoms new and old. The tale of a knight and a very bothersome itch... Or was it a witch? Bah. Tales are oft changed through the ages. But tell me. Heir, Doest thou wish to hear the story?

You do? Hardly you will grace this lowly teller of stories with thou presence but if it is thine wish you might as well get comfy.

 _It begins in a town that existed long ago..._

* * *

Alva walked down the street his scarlet and gold tunic shining brightly in the sun. Hardly has there been a young man whose audacity to wear such clothes be born in that simple town. Wherest nary the brightest color were the finest satins and silks of the cathedral dwellers who hath lived nearby. Oft not, the people of Alva's village would dress as brightly or as ostentatiously as the religious fanatics that resided in the cathedral.

For between the two main bodies there was always the largest gap when it came between the town's people and the living Saint and her followers. It was often said that the kind woman who wore white silk dresses hemmed with gold could produce wondrous and powerful miracles that could heal the sick, restore the strength of the infirm and rejuvenate the distraught was a subject of great reverence. But the town's people were simple and stubborn and would not convert into the ways of the fanatics. All refused except for young Alva. For the boy knew the living Saint not as she was presented as but what she used to be when they were younger. A pair whose mischief and light hearted fun were the pride and joy of the simple village and it's people.

For Alva was a brave soul whose capacity for courage, determination, selflessness and loyalty were to be said to be on par with the greatest knights of the highest caliber. But the boy was forever cursed with the inability to grow and match the knights of yore. For in order to become a knight one must be of at least low noble birth and if not the chances of being knighted were very slim indeed. And in a small and simple village such as this, such chances were oft smashed and treaded upon underfoot without nary a considerate look upon the poor soul who had dreamed of such a thing.

Though today of all days, Alva's fate was about to take a turn for either the good or worse. Maybe. The fates weren't too sure whether it was this day of the next. But for the sake of the story however, lettuce continue the story.

* * *

"Alva! Where are you! Mi'lady Serrata requests you at her side this instant! Alva!" cried the head of the Cathedral. He was the most unusual man to be head of a religious facility with his large physique, toned arms and scraggly beard. If anything the man looked more at home in a forge creating metallic art than giving sermon after sermon on a daily basis.

Alva popped up from the nearby bushes. His mouth full of juicy red berries and his scarlet and gold tunic now slung over his back filled full with the very same berries that were in his mouth.

"Mph?"

"Yes, Now. Hurry along now you know how she is when you keep her waiting."

The man and the berry boy both shuddered at a distant yet horrifying memory of why you don't keep saints waiting. Especially when that same exact saint happens to be your twin sister.

The not-blacksmith-priest and unfortunate-saint-brother parted ways. Each to their own unique paths and fates. For every soul has a place but it is up to that soul to find It's own path and place amongst the plethora of others that intertwine or destroy each other. But Alva has yet to fully take the first step.

* * *

 _And so It was on that fateful day that the greatest knight who ever lived. Was about to take his first step up on his path to greatness..._

Now heir. Or should I say chosen one. Perhaps a different name for you the next time we meet or speak to each other. Nevertheless. Keep your wits about you, your blade close and your souls even closer. Hehehe!

* * *

 _A/N: Hello! This is Seobryn here with a little side project. As you are aware I am currently working on a wonderful fic called "Hearts Prevail" for the ever expanding RWBY Fandom. Which is good because RWBY is going to have a season 3! But any way, as you may or may not know I am a big fan of the Dark Souls series and own most From Soft. games. After going through the small dark souls section on fanfiction, I felt that I should contribute a few stories of my own. Most chapters of these stories will not be long like my RWBY fic, but they should not be as short as this prologue._

 _Now if any of my readers don't know about the "Souls" series, Most stories and character backstories are often left to player speculation and expansion. Where we can further the lore with our own version of the story. Where a half breed was the illegitimate bastard between a Goddess and a scaleless Dragon. Or instead was the product of experimentation and created in order to find the answer of preventing the spread of the harrowing and soul destroying "Dark Sign". But the end result will always be the same where the player will meet the fluffy dragon hime and not wish to leave hell. And yes, both of the theories I have presented to you are two of what I feel are the most popular theories._

 _Of course, if you feel like you disagree with me then feel free to leave a negative review. But if you feel like you wish for for the story to go onwards feel free to leave a positive review. And following and favoriting this story is always asked of you._

 _P.S If no one finds the pun in here I will be very upset. Or not. It really depends._


	2. Chapter 2

Hm... Hmmmm... Oh! There you are Mi'liege. Have you seen this atrocious green mist. Heavens forbid you have to step through it. Oh? You would like to hear more of the story? Well, I do hope that you can find a comfortable place to sit by the bonfire. Perhaps one of these boxes shall suit thy royal needs. If anything I would hope that you would come. But not this soon...

Oh? You are wondering how I got here? That is quite simply a stroll through the woods for me. Nothing these old bones cannot do. But nevertheless a tip for you, Mi'liege. There is a young woman just beyond the safety of this pyre, and I do believe that the task she may set for you may require two hands. For she has a most wonderful chest... To store her many stones.

Hm? Why are you blushing Mi'Liege? Did you take my words into the wrong context? I say, the young heir has quite the rampant mind if I may say so myself.

However, be wary for that girl is quite oblivious to her surroundings and may forget who she was speaking to down the line.

Now where was I... Ah, Yes.

 _The day was like any other..._

 _..._

The crystal blue sky shined down light like a glorious incandescent father. Raining his love upon the Mother Earth and her children.

Alva climbed up the gravel path towards the Cathedral. His hair whipping against the wind and his white under cloth shirt representing the purity of the religious ground his tread upon.

...

As Alva climbed and followed the cathedral path he could not shake the foreboding feeling that he felt in his body. That perhaps something had gone horribly awry. He feared for his sister, for she was not guarded like the other living saints that he had heard about in scripture instead she was guarded by the seemingly remarkable anonymous reputation she had gain. While other Saints would revel in glory and pride that is their status. Serrata simply enjoyed the peace and quiet of their village. Preferring to not be known and sought after. For she was a beautiful and nubile young lady. Though most eligible young men in the village feared her Brother's spear or axe.

After all, Alva was the resident huntsman in the village and caught most of the untamed yet very tasty meat in the forests that neighbor the village. That was to say that he wasn't the only hunter, rather he was the best and youngest when compared to the others.

Alva climbed the hand carved and meticulously cared stairs up towards the Cathedral. His thoughts were not on how he should bow and scrape his knees upon the ground but rather how he could approach his sister while avoiding getting his ear pulled and yelled into. Perhaps the berries he had slung over his shoulder would be a sufficient sacrifice to her. Though that meant he would have to find something else to placate and offset his mostly meat, dried root, and water diet. Maybe he would try one of the fancier root fruits that were popular in the village. Potatoes? He thought to himself as he opened the almost too simple to be considered regal doors.

After all... The village can only provide so much in the name of a saint. Living or no, what the village could provide had already stripped the precious resources of the village. Thus it was good they were not associated with any of the nearby kingdoms. But such things would mean that the simple and humble life would be the farthest one could go in means of comfort.

Alva would often question the need to have such regal doors but most thoughts he had would end at the door as he entered the quiet and religious atmosphere of the cathedral.

"... And thus the advent of fire had ushered in the age of man and from that flame the power of miracles was given to a select few to provide and to protect those who did not have the power to do so themselves! Praise the holy fire and may it illuminate your lives in the passing." Echoed a voice from the podium of the Cathedral. The emanated from a slightly obese man, though it was often hard to tell how obese the man was due to his very loose and expensive cloth that consisted of his robes.

"Praise the fire! Praise upon the young saint!" Crowed the religious fanatics that knelt and prostrated themselves upon the altar and podium.

"Mmmh." Was all Alva said as he hugged the left wall. Heading towards the healing chapel where his twin resided. Often one must pay a hefty fee in order to enter but none would bar entrance to the family of the saint. For fear of the saint retaliating or protesting in her own scary but unique way. Alva shuddered at another horrible memory that appeared in his mind as he stared at the large black spot on the doorway into the healing chapel. Many would-be-suitors... Sadly wouldn't be returning home to their families- if any at all survived the first wave or the second or the third.

Alva nodded to the man who encompassed the space in front of the simple wooden door. Alva would often have a staring contest with the man, thinking and devising hundreds of ways on how to best to kill the man but never acting on those plans- for fear of his sister finding out.

The man stared back at Alva before he knocked on the door. And the two began their staring contest. Obviously waiting on the young saint to open the door. Waiting times would often be from two to ten minutes by Alva's estimations depending on the time of day, which was currently midmorning, how many people were in the Cathedral itself, to which Alva could count a few less than the usual, and whether or not the slightly large door wall had eaten or not, to which the wall of flesh did not as evident by the still full jug of water next to man and on the wall.

Though today took an especially long time as the two had blinked at least fifteen to sixteen times at least. Alva was about about to push the man aside when the door opened and his sister exited the room. Her long hair framing her face beautifully as her simple white dress left little to the imagination when it hugged her well proportioned body in all the right ways. If Alva wasn't related so closely to the young saint he too would be a part of the large burn mark that was upon the door and it's frame.

Saint Serrata was not one to be flirted with. She had dedicated her life to the art of healing and had taken a vow of a Celibate. Though celibacy did not hone her temper nor her tendency to summon bolts of light to smite those that annoy her. As those poor, poor suitors learned the hard way when Alva was injured in trying to prevent a stampede into the small healing chapel.

"Dear Brother! There you are I was perhaps wondering when you would appear. It is quite lonely here in the chapel and though I do enjoy the quiet of here. I do cherish the time we spend together as family." Serrata's soft and gentle voice masking the very scary side of her very well. Her face adorned with a gentle and happy smile.

Alva simply nodded and rubbed the top of his dear sister's head. She smiled even more as she wrapped her arms around him. It was a nice sibling reunion, though this happened like every four to five minutes between the two. While most would find that having contact with a Celibate would turn you into one, Alva was still male and had an hidden cache of "goods" that were meant for his eyes only.

 _But alas dear listener, I cannot tell you the details of the "goods" hidden away by Alva. For simply, I do not know the exact location of said "goods" but I shall leave that to your imagination. Now on with the story!_

But Alva wondered about the veil she wore and gestured to it. He hadn't noticed it up to this point as he was oblivious to it. Nor was he expecting her to wear one.

"Oh! The Veil… Um, perhaps later. Yes! At a later time dear Brother! Are those berries I see? May we sit and share them?"

She offers a seat at her humble yet small table. Though her choice of clothing is no laughing matter. While the room is humble, the closet is not. Nope, if one wanted to be humble then they must dress humble, but not Saint Serrata she does whatever she wanted. Alva mentally punched that sort of thought out of his head. It wasn't as if she wanted to be humble. Serrata was a spoiled girl who wanted a spoiled life, but was unfortunately blessed with powers beyond her reckoning.

He took a seat at the humble table and presented his offering-no scratch that- his sacrifice to his younger sibling. Serrata looked at the sacrifice of wild, but safe to eat, berries with great interest and reached out to grab some. Alva took notice and slapped her hand. Making the no-no finger sign at her. Serrata looked at her older brother her face about to cry, but since she was wearing a veil it was hard to see.

Alva pointed at the nearby wash basin and washed his hands in the water, gesturing his sister to do the same. Though she was a saint, she was family first and foremost. And Alva wouldn't give her up for the world.

As they tucked into their meager snack of berries, Serrata was enjoying herself. Humming as she swung her feet from her chair, though she was tall enough to have both feet on the ground. Alva smiled at her.

…

Zullie hated the world. She hated everything. As one who used magic, it was obvious that many should have flocked to her in hopes of earning her trust. But rather she was hated and hunted. She wanted to engulf the world in flames in hopes of satisfying her anger against humanity. But… She wasn't like that. Yet.

Instead she casted a hex, one that her teacher had passed onto her, against a person who was following her. It wasn't very powerful but enough to dissuade the most advent of pursuers. Zullie continued running through the dark, avoiding trees and the occasional stump or fallen log. She was in a hurry to leave. Her staff and mace, while worn and appearing dull in the torch light. But the staff was a gift from her teacher, her teachings passed down to Zullie to continue on. Perhaps to pass on to Zullie's disciples should that ever happen. After all Leydian spellcasters were primarily well respected women, though men have been able to rise up to the level of the powerful witches they were however few in between centuries. Though many don't exist now due to a certain catastrophe regarding the trust of others and the secrets of the Leydian principles of magic.

Though not from the land itself, Zullie was always the good student and soon surpassed her teacher. Though not long after that pursuers in the name of knights from the nearby kingdom invaded the quiet and peaceful village where Zullie and her teacher resided. Thus gaining the permanent animosity of Zullie.

…

 _I wonder why I am telling you about this Zullie character, no? It is very simple. She is a very important person to this story. But hurry along now Mi'liege, lest you inhale the wrong fumes and be poisoned. But hold on, take these. They shall help with the toxic mist._

 **A/N: Thanks for waiting this long. As per usual I wish you all a good praising and a good day. Please remember to fa- NAHHHHHH, I'm just joshin' with ya. IN fact this Author's note is good for one thing. As of yet, Alva has not donned his signature armor nor has he met with waifu Zullie. So I'm thinkin' Ima lets ya decide on what weapons Alva should use from the combinations below. I will also be putting up a poll in my profile of which combinations I believe were possibilities. However, if you think you can come up with a better one then I shall put that on the poll as well or will count it as a single vote towards your combination.**


	3. Chapter 3

Ah, Young Heir. How was the journey through the poisonous valley? No? You weren't prepared for what was in store? Ah… 'Tis a pity mi'lord. But nevertheless, would you like to rest at the bonfire first? I have always found it much more reliving after a long journey gone awry or when I simply wish for a bit o' rest.

Oh? You wish to know where you should've gone? Mi'lord… I had hoped you had gone the path that you wished. But… However did you end up here in the first place? Oh? You simply wandered through the a opened door which turned out to be a wall when you turned around? Young Heir, you are sorely misinformed if you didn't know that all the Bonfires were connected… Ah… I see… So your "Beloved Herald" failed to inform you. Though I too would forget such an important thought when meeting the one she so desperately desired to meet.

But perish the thought that she may one day be of no use to you. And that you may commit an unspeakable crime. But again. Perish that thought, Mi'lord.

Kneel before the bonfire and think of a memory of the place you wish to visit. And the Bonfire shall grant thee thy wish and transport you to the place of your memories. But tread careful young Heir, for you may lose something in the process of doing so. So I recommend doing this only as a last resort.

But before you go, Young Heir. Do you wish to continue to hear the story? Oh! You do? Many blessings upon you, Mi'lord.

Now… Where did I leave off…

 _The Night was long…_

* * *

 **(The Dark Forest)**

To say the least. If anything the sky seemed to have been swallowed whole by the darkness. For naught a shred of glorious moonlight had graced the dark blessed ground below. And Zullie was in much need of that comforting moonlight. Her mage light, though dutiful and bright, revealed where she was to her foes and required her to continue to evade the many hunters. She wished for something or someone to hamper or scare away her pursuers.

Zullie ran up a steep hill only to trip on a hidden tree root and fall down the rest of the hill. As she tumbled down, Zullie curled up into a ball in order to hopefully not become more hurt than she already was. But hoping for such trivial thoughts would not get her through the night. If anything Zullie must push on against all odds and survive. But with the sounds cresting the top of the hill, she had no other choice but to keep moving forward.

* * *

 **(The Town)**

Alva was in a dilemma. He was in one situation that he couldn't deny was an impossible feat to accept or even attempt to complete. His sister was in dire need of...

Cake...

Of all things she could want. The young Saint wanted to be spoiled by her older brother and tasked him with the impossible job of finding the best tasting cake in the village and the neighboring city. And when he came back she promised to have a surprise for him.

Alva sighed. He was going to have to find one of the most fragile sweets possible. And had to deliver the thing in the state he bought it in. What a dilemma… and all for the benefit of not getting a slice later on when his sister attempted to dislocate her jaw in order to eat the entire thing by herself. She had a very bad weakness to the luxurious sweet bread and would often fast many meals in order to save up money for a single slice when she was not recognized as a saint. But even now to this point, Serrata would skip most meals in order to force her brother to buy her cake as a sort of reward for lasting that long. Much to his worry for her health.

But Alva needed to get some things done with over at the city anyway so he decided to kill two hypothetical birds with one hypothetical stone. He glanced over at the semi-large bag of gold his sister had forced upon him and the very large and slightly bloody bag of yesterday's hunt. Hopefully what he had in mind wouldn't take up much money after Serrata's cake. Hopefully.

That being said, Alva put on his travelling cloak picked up the large sack of slightly fresh meat and the semi-large bag of gold and left his small but humble village. Alva entered the woods just outside of what used to be his and Serrata's home, looking around and taking a deep breath of the fresh air and headed down the trail towards the city.

* * *

 **(Dark Forest)**

Zullie was in a dilemma now, she was stuck at the bottom of the hill with no way to go other than up or further into the woods. She looked about and hoped that her pursuers had given up. But then she heard the clanking of metal against metal and decided that the woods would probably be better.

Then she felt a certain kind of pressure on the back of her leg and fell to her knee, looking behind her, she could see the murderous grin of a hunter as he pocketed the sling he used to temporarily stun her leg. Of course, the throbbing pain and the possible forming of a very large bruise would be the least of her worries if the hunter had called out to his friends. But her sudden realization on what he was fumbling with his belt brought even more fear in her heart than what she had expected.

Zullie struggled to get up, but her leg refused to listen to her and when it did it did not function very well. She felt tears welling up in her eyes as she forced her eyes shut and muttered an incantation and held her mace up in the air. She felt joyous relief sweep over her and the pain and the throbbing disappeared. She didn't make it obvious, of course, as she pretended to struggle to stand up and flee from her soon-to-be assailant.

"Well, well, well. What do we have here, such a pretty lady alone in these deep dark woods. Would you like a helping hand or two? Hehehehe~" the hunter said, his eyes and body betraying his true intentions of what "helping hand" was going to be.

Zullie continued to pretend to struggle, as she cycled through many possible and painful spells and hexes that her master had taught her. Then she remembered the single piercing arrow that her master had told her would be most useful in situations such as these. Gathering her thoughts and emotions and purging them from her mind, Zullie silently muttered words upon words that shaped the spell she so desired turning her thoughts and emotions into the fuel that would propel the spell into form and power. Turning her body to face the man, she then thrust her staff out and from the blackened twisted shape of her staff leapt a blazing blue arrow. It travelled with great speed and haste towards her attacker and pierced his body, entering it and directly attacking his soul.

The man staggered once, then made a single motion towards Zullie. Then fell, the light in his eyes fading out as his soul departed from his body.

Zullie was shaken, but not to the extent that one would expect from a person who had just killed their first man. If anything, Zulle was ecstatic that she had just taken the first step onto bringing vengeance on the men who had unjustly slain her master.

Turning her body to face the dark woods once more, Zullie ran. Putting as much distance between her and her pursuers.

Her fleeing form not being spotted in the night blessed woods.

* * *

 **(Smithy)**

Alva stared at the cake he now carried in his hands. Then at the Blacksmith who regarded Alva with a smile. The two continued to look at one and the other, silently talking to each other as fellows who don't use words often do. Then Alva sighed loudly and left, only to get a reassuring grunt from the Blacksmith and a ever so helpful thumbs up. Alva narrowed his eyes at the blacksmith in annoyance and left the shop.

The cake wasn't the cheapest but it was the best in the city and the combined funds from the dead deer that he had brought had gone much into Serrata's cake fund. Sadly he didn't have enough left over gold to even commission the items he wanted from the Blacksmith. But he was assured that the Blacksmith would have what he wanted the next time he visited and even offered to trade with the Poor Hunter in order to pay off what he could not afford. That was a nice gesture but Alva preferred to pay his debts in gold at least so that he didn't feel like he was cheating the man out of some profit.

* * *

 _Though in retrospect, Mi'lord. The Blacksmith had already deducted a hefty amount from the final price of the items that Alva had wanted. After all, his dear saintly sister had healed the Blacksmith's eyes and cured his wife of her great illness, without the ever protecting and sometimes bothersome presence of Alva. But Serrata wouldn't tell Alva that. No, she would keep that a surprise indeed._

* * *

 **(Crossroads)**

It took Alva two whole days to figure out a path that had the least problems and the lowest possible chance of him ever harming the fragile sweet bread. It was a fickle beast to be assured as the slightest provocation would result in the sweet bread to attempt to dash itself against the walls of its confinement and spread its confectionary guts all over the container, leaving Alva to face his sister's wrath when he presented this holy yet decimated sacrifice to her.

Walking down the forest road, onto which he met and saw many kinds of travellers, but none of which had caught his eye. Not even the woman in all black, to which Alva had to assure himself WAS a woman since her dress was loose and didn't hug all the right curves that Alva was used to. Not to mention it was covered in dirt and tears which also didn't help to boost her physical image as she also kept her face hidden underneath a large hat with a strange pointy bit at the top.

Alva's village wasn't the wealthiest place in the land but it did have its fair share of good tailors and cloth spinners to make sure at least the workers and peasants looked presentable. And even more so now that Serrata was a Saint.

He continued down the road for awhile, taking brief breaks in between to rest himself and to make sure that the cake hadn't somehow murdered itself in the trip. This took Alva another day to make it to the village, because cakes are evil manifestations of confectionary hell sent to haunt and torment Alva at every single turn. His cloak was covered in tears and all sorts of wears as he had to often throw his body at the danger to the cake, not himself but the cake of all things.

The cake though, that evil little sweet bread covered in all sorts of sugary goodness that tempted his benevolent and sometimes very violent younger sister to desire above all things, was fine. Throughout the trip it had barely budged one centimeter, but Alva swore up and down that it moved to much to the right or to the left and would very lightly try to tip the container in the right direction to center it. Though his actions would be irrelevant and quite possibly detrimental to his health.

* * *

 _Now, at this point Mi'liege. Alva and Zullie are no where near each other, but rather so far apart that they could be considered to have been linked by fate by those who believe in such things._

* * *

 **(Misty Woods, Inner Dark Forest)**

Zullie stared blankly into the sky, it's sun blessed rays gracing the treetops of the forbidden and desolate forest. The tree trunks surrounding her tall and foreboding, yet to her gave comfort and safety. For in this forest did the mist rise deep and soak high into the air. It's almost impenetrable depths offering sanctuary to those in search of a place to rest, or a place to hide.

Zullie looked around and sighed, for she was not a divine. She couldn't tell when the next foe would come from and she wouldn't stop to say why. But she knew they will one day get her and then it would be pain filled and emotionally ruining on both levels. Zullie needed to be strong, she needed to be better than these _humans_ that haunted her. She didn't need friendship or love, nothing that would get her emotionally attached to anything that seeked to harm her.

Instead she would make them _fear_ her. After all, Zullie had all the time in the world.

* * *

 _Ah! It seems this chapter has come to a close Heir. I do hope you would come by and indulge in this oldman once more. Afterall… Your story is the greatest of them all… Heh._

* * *

 **A/N: Hello my Fellow Sunbros and Sunsters! It is I with a new chapter.**

 **So some new info for y'all. Apparently only one person, thank you person who voted, actually voted on what kind of weapon that Alva would use in this story. And here I thought I could trust y'all to be active in this story… Apparently not… BUT Thank you to the person who voted once again!**


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